There's nothing particularly special about the building. It smells like ass. A troublesome scent, especially in light of Uncle Ezekiel's forays into banning anything remotely related to the African bum.
Month: December 2018
My mum will go to church that day. She will sit at the edge of the wooden pew, on the fourth bench from the front. She has always sat there. Close enough to the altar, but not too close that everyone notices. She will pray. And because God is in her pocket, he will listen. Somehow, my many sins will be forgiven, I will see heaven, on the back of my mother's prayer.